


The Power of Fiction

by Moonlark



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, where did this come from?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:53:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlark/pseuds/Moonlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paulie is working on a novel in his free time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**_"Chapter 9: Thorns in the Greenhold_ **

_Nik woke with the taste of blood in his mouth._ _He lunged upright, thrashing about, tearing free of the clinging sheets and stumbling across the rough wooden floor to throw the shuters open and breathe in huge gasping gulps of the cold night air._

_He could still see it if he closed his eyes, could still smell it, hear it echoing in his head - the tower with flames shooting out the windows, the screams of the servants as they struggled to get out, the groans of stone as the tower collapsed in on itself, the clinging smoke that filled the air - the stench of burning flesh._

_He spat bitterly out the window. It was no matter - that had been Skyhold. He had no reason to care for them. His Firehold blood protected him..._

_Yet he still saw the hordes of Icehold ringing the Skyheart when he closed his eyes._

_He shivered as the cold breeze dried the sweat on his body. Closing the shutters gently, he tiptoed back across the room and sat down on his bed. A deep sigh echoed around the room, and he tried to relax. He knew there would be no sleeping until he calmed down, but he lay back anyway and threw an arm across his eyes._

_Next to him, Jassr whimpered. The young Skyhold prince had rolled into a ball, wrapping himself tightly in the thin linens. Only his short black hair showed above the white cloth._

_Nik sighed again, feigning irritation, but something in the sight of the other boy curled up there tugged at his heart. He rolled over and rested a hand on the young prince's shoulder.  "Shhh, little one, shh, it's all right. Icehold isn't anywhere near here. You're safe, I'm not going to hurt you."_

_Jassr looked up, and Nik cursed silently. He'd thought the younger boy was asleep. But no, here were blue eyes staring deep into his own––"_

"What're you doing?" 

Paulie jumps as a voice breaks through his thoughts. Nealer plops down into the seat next to him, eyes sparkling mischeviously. He snatches Paulie's laptop and quickly stands up, backing away when Paulie tries to grab it back. 

"Give it back!" Paulie grabs Nealer's wrist. "C'mon, I need that!" He would tackle Nealer or something, but this is his _laptop_ , and he doesn't want to risk it getting broken.

Nealer shakes him off and begins reading aloud. "Chapter 9: Thorns in the Greenhold. Nik woke with the taste of blood in his mouth..." His voice trails off. "What is this, Paulie?"

Before he can answer, he realizes that basically the whole plane's staring at them. Flower's even poked Sid awake, just for this show. Even if he doesn't tell them anything, they'll just keep bugging him about it until he snaps. Better get it out of the way now.

So he squares his shoulders and says, "It's my novel."

That's how it begins.

 

* * *

  

Paulie started writing in early December, when he was out with a broken leg and he couldn't stand just _waiting_. It started out as a crazy idea in his head, a simple thought, and then he started writing, and it just snowballed. Now it's six weeks and nearly 50,000 words later, and he's only on chapter _nine_. 

The characters, the places are so real, he can see them in his head. The whole land of the Mark, the Red Desert, the Icewall, the Needles, the Emerald Ocean and the island of L **i** rn, the Skystone Plateau, the vineyards of Firehold, the deep and snowy forests of Icehold, the mountains of Skyhold, the farms of Greenhold, the rocky crags of the Seahold coast, and the tall, ominous silhouette of the Cortlin Volcano. It's a whole new land, just beyond the horizon, waiting at his fingertips. 

It feels great to create something, and he doesn't care if anyone reads it, so long as it simply exists. His head's too small to fit a whole world in. 

Really, no one should have a head _that_ big.

But the story gets written, and now that he's healed, he's playing well, and as long as he plays well, who cares what he's writing in his free time?

 

 


	2. Exposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh-kaay... so, I don't know? but Paulie tries to keep hiding his feelings for Nealer, and Flower is a skilled hacker who also possesses a surprisingly large knowledge of locks and lock-picks.

After a good, strong win over the Islanders the next night, the team goes out drinking together. Buoyed by his two goals, Nealer gets drunker and drunker until he slumps into the booth, leaning against Paulie and whispering nonsense into his collarbone. He cuddles shamelessly, burrowing his face in Paulie's shoulder and mouthing wetly through his shirt.

Drunk Nealer is handsy. 

As of the present situation, in Paulie's opinion, that's not a good thing. He can feel himself beginning to get hard. God, he's spent _years_ hanging back and keeping his feelings hidden, and yes, a boner isn't necessarily going to be taken as feelings, but it's still embarrasing.

But Nealer just snuggles against Paulie, no sign that he's at all aware of... well, pretty much anything.

Paulie sighs. "Time to get you home." 

Geno tries to waylay them as they're going out the door, but Paulie threatens to let Nealer drool all over him. They make it outside, and Paulie calls a cab.

It's not until he sits back in the darkness of the taxi that he realizes that he hasn't written anything yet today.

 

* * *

 

After manhandling Nealer into his hotel room, Paulie goes to his own room and opens the door, walking in without looking around. He closes his eyes and stands there for a few moments, half-wasted and suddenly bone tired.

"This is really good."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Paulie nearly jumps out of his skin. He bangs his shin on the edge of the bed, curses in pain, and then sits down slowly, staring across the room at the armchair in the corner. 

Flower is curled up there, cradling a bowl of popcorn and... Paulie's laptop.

"What... the fuck..." and Paulie would swear he's hallucinating, except he doesn't think even his brain could accurately create something as crazy as _Flower_. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up, please, I am reading."

Paulie gasps indignantly. Shut up? Flower dares come in here, take his laptop, scare him half to death, and then tell _him_ to shut up??? ... ...

"How... how did you even get in here?"

Flower holds up something long, metal, and mysterious. Paulie stares at it for a few moments, trying to figure out what it is. Flower obviously seems to think that thin strip of metal explains everything, but honestly, Paulie's still a lot confused and drunk and _really_ wishing he was alone right now. 

"Umm..." he says blankly.

Flower sighs and finally looks up from the laptop. "This is a lock-pick. It is a high quality one, of course, I made it myself. This story you are writing, it is really good, do you have a name for it yet?"

"Ummm..." The rapid change of subject has thrown Paulie off, and he's _still_ drunk, which is getting annoying. He feels like he's a half step behind, out of place, which is just wrong, cuz it's Flower who's invaded his room.

"But... the computer is password protected..." he offers.

"Too easy. Boring." 

"So I should change my password, make it harder to guess..."

"That won't help." Paulie's surprise must show on his face, because Flower rolls his eyes and says, "Why waste time guessing a password when you can simply hack past it?"

 _Someone help me,_ Paulie thinks.  _I'm alone in a room with a crazy hacker/goalie who wants to know the name of the story I'm writing. I don't know where he's going to hide the body._

"Uhh... how much have you read?"

"First three chapters." 

"...and you like it?"

"Good writers lead to good books, Paulie."

So it's... it's..." Paulie yawns. He's starting to consider the possibility of just going to sleep rght then and there. Then again, just the thought of someone _watching_ him sleep is incentive enough to keep him awake. 

But really, he's tired, so it would be nice if Flower would leave.

Eventually, the goalie sets aside the laptop and walks out without a goodbye, leaving the half-eaten popcorn bowl behind. 

 _Well, that was... bizarre_ , Paulie thinks, just before passing out on the bed. 

 

* * *

 

Geno's just getting back to his room when he sees Flower come out of Paulie's room. Flower mutters something in French, then shuts the door and laughs. He takes something out of his pocket and flips it over in his hand, before putting it away. The grin on his face is one Geno's actually never seen before, strangely feral and predatory, unnerving and dangerous. The goalie disappears down the hallway, an interesting spring in his step, and Geno shakes his head.

He does not want to know what happened in there. He doesn't even want to guess. 


End file.
